


break your heart to make it bigger

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Children of Characters, Drinking & Talking, GSF but mostly an Arthur/Dom story, M/M, Multi, Relationship Negotiation, past Arthur/Dom/Mal that is discussed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 02:44:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15963017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: "Do you mind if I stop to visit the kids?" Arthur asks."Stop to visit?" Dom replies. "You should just stay with us."(Arthur stays, everyone else shows up as well, and they drink their way through Dom's wine collection.)





	break your heart to make it bigger

**Author's Note:**

> Finished for Iddy Iddy Bang Bang 2018, after months of it being the "Why isn't there any Inception GSF?" story I told myself to fall asleep at night yet didn't really work on, or write actual six-some porn for. (It's too many limbs to keep track of, and even Dom's giant new house doesn't have a bed big enough for six people. But anyway! It was fun to cross another thing off my 'write someday' list.)

"I'm going to be in Santa Monica for a few weeks, doing some work," Arthur says during their monthly catch-up. "I don't have to be on-site very often, do you mind if I stop to visit the kids?"

"Stop to visit? It's not too bad a drive, you should just stay with us." Dom's voice sounds easy, sweet. It almost seems out of character; Arthur's so used to hearing nothing but worry and stress in his words. It's been a long, long time since he's picked up anything but tension in Dom's voice. In the background Arthur imagines the sounds of Phillipa and James running around, calling back and forth. After a second, he realizes he's not imagining them. 

"I'll text you the address," Dom says, clearly taking Arthur's lack of response for agreement.

"I know where you live." He's been there countless times. Been there when Dom hasn't, even.

"But we're in the process of moving."

"You're moving?" _Out of the house you and Mal designed?_ , he doesn't add.

"James and Phillipa will each need their own rooms soon, and I'd like to keep one made up for Claudine, so that leaves us without a guest room in this house," Dom says. "We'll be in the new place in Lancaster when you get here next week; most of our things are already there. It's further north than the old place."

"All right, send me the address."

After they've hung up, Arthur looks up the new house online. It's much larger than he was expecting, with less dark wood and low ceilings, and more cream-colored walls. Arthur can still picture where Dom will put most of the furniture; where he'll hang all the photographs. 

Maybe moving is part of how Dom's letting go of Mal, at least a little.

  


  


  


It's a long flight and the plane doesn't even touch down until after he knows the kids have gone to bed. Dom offered to pick him up from the airport, but he hires a car instead, and drowses a bit in the backseat, hoping the driver knows where he's going. He can't see much of the house as he goes through the gate, other than the soft lights by the sheltered front door, but then the door opens and Dom's standing there smiling. "Hey. You found it."

"Of course." Arthur puts his bags down in the hall and hugs Dom, finds him warm against the chill of the air conditioning and still using the same muted cologne. He glances around the expansive foyer. Some of Mal's sketches are hung on the wall. "All settled in?"

"For the most part. There's some boxes I haven't gotten around to yet." Dom's still smiling. His hair is a little longer than the last time Arthur saw him; it makes him look younger. Or maybe being home makes him look younger. He waves a hand. "Come on, I'll show you what we can get to without waking up the kids."

Arthur gets the tour, and they end up in the kitchen, where Dom must have been when Arthur knocked. He goes back to assembling sandwiches. "For the kids' lunches," he says. "You hungry? I could make another."

"No, I'm all right." Arthur straddles one of the tall stools at the counter. "So what do you do all day?"

"Their summer camp only goes until two, so I run my errands in the morning, do a little work." 

"Work?"

Dom points the butter knife he's holding at a sketchbook that's a couple feet down the counter from Arthur.

"You're drafting again?" Arthur asks, pleased. He reaches for the sketchbook and pulls it towards him. It's thick, and Dom has marked some pages with Post-It tabs.

"I'm a little rusty, but…"

"Well, it's about time." He thumbs through the pages. Office buildings, mostly: strong, clean lines rocketing upward off the edges. The floors of a house, each on a separate page, the dimensions detailed right down to the shelves in a closet.

"That one's all practice," Dom says. He screws the lid back on the peanut butter jar. "Most of what's in there is practice, to be truthful."

"It's good," Arthur replies, honest, and Dom smiles, his cheeks pinking. "So what then, the kids come home, you hang out with them?"

Dom sets the knife in the sink and re-twists the bread bag. "I have a lot of missed time to make up for." 

The words are quiet. He walks around the counter to lean next to Arthur. "I missed a lot," he murmurs, and Arthur knows he doesn't only mean with James and Phillipa. 

"We all understood." Arthur presses their shoulders together. "Sorry I was a dick a lot of the time."

"Like I wasn't," Dom replies, a wry laugh pulling at the words. He hangs his head slightly. "Arthur -"

"I know what you're going to say. It's fine. It was a long time ago."

"I was still an asshole," Dom says quietly, no laughter now. "You cared about her, too."

Arthur sighs. "Yes, you were an asshole. That's what you want me to say, right? Come on, Dom. You had your reasons. And it's not like we were ever anything without her."

He knows what Dom's thinking of - the times Mal had invited him into her and Dom's bed, the easy affection they'd once shared between the three of them. He's not really mad at Dom for pretending none of it had ever happened, once Mal was gone. He'd been hurt, but not mad. Arthur knows he would have probably done the same thing, were he in Dom's shoes.

He finds Dom's hand and squeezes. "It's fine," he says again. "And my flight was long, how about you show me the guest room?"

  


  


  


Phillipa and James both seem happy to see him in the morning, dropping their breakfast spoons and darting over for hugs when Arthur shuffles into the kitchen still in his pajamas. He's been to visit a handful of times since the Fisher job, and the kids had at least sort of remembered him from before. Sometimes Arthur still has a hard time reconciling _Dom_ with _having kids_ , even though it's been years, but he's given to understand that's a common problem when you're single, and you remember what your friends were like when _they_ were single.

He'd never really known Dom without Mal, but he remembers how they were always talking about one adventure after another, criss-crossing Europe, dropping everything to jet off to Paris for holidays. Arthur was still designing training simulations for the Army at that point; the military didn't pay like the private sector, so he was usually the one dropping them off at the airport if they needed a ride. 

Mal always kissed him on the cheek when they parted. "Goodbye, darling. Don't do anything we wouldn't do," she said every time, and Dom would usually smirk at Arthur over her shoulder, meaning _you should do all sorts of things_.

James hangs on to his knees after Phillipa goes back to her cereal. "Are you gonna walk me to school?" he asks.

"Sure, I guess I can go with," Arthur replies, glancing up at Dom. 

"Uncle Arthur better get dressed if he's going to walk with us to school," Dom says, ostensibly to James, but mostly to Arthur. 

"I should hurry up and do that, huh?" Arthur says to James, who nods, looking pleased. Arthur ruffles his hair. "Okay, be back in a minute."

"I'll count," James says. "One, two -"

Arthur sees Dom trying to smother a grin as he passes over a cup of coffee. "How about you finish your cereal instead?"

  


  


  


They drop Phillipa and James off at their day camp a few blocks away, with Arthur promising both kids he'll still be there when they're done today, that he'll come with Dom to pick them up. They wave goodbye before running across the playground. 

"Tomorrow I do need to go to Los Angeles," he tells Dom. "Well, Santa Monica."

"You can borrow one of the cars. I don't really need two." Dom slides his hands in the pockets of his slacks. With a polo, it's his version of dressed down, even though he doesn't have anything to dress up for. Arthur would make fun of him, but he's wearing the same thing. There are definitely a few moms looking at them; Dom doesn't seem to notice. 

"I'm getting paid enough for this that I could hire a car," Arthur protests as they walk, but it's only a token. "Actually, I'm getting paid more than enough, considering I'm not even the subject. These black-ops contractors bring in someone else for their teams to run raids on. I'm just there to explain how it all works, then hide in the dream until I get shot when I'm found."

"I'm sure you're good at finding a hiding place."

"I'm excellent at it," Arthur says.

"Remember when there were only about a dozen of us in the world?" Dom looks up at the tree branches they're passing under. There's a faraway sort of look on his face. Arthur wonders what job he's thinking of - if he is thinking of a job. He and Mal had always been more into exploring the dreamspace than Arthur was.

"There's still only about a dozen of us that are _good_ ," Arthur replies, and Dom seems to come back to himself, because his mouth does something that might be a smile. 

"There's a coffeeshop not far," he says, "if you'd like to keep walking."

"Sure." 

So they walk, not saying very much at all, to a small cafe that occupies a corner of an office building. There are a handful of square tables and plush chairs, newspapers and magazines scattered about. Dom orders an espresso as Arthur looks around, and when the coffee arrives in a utilitarian white cup on matching saucer, Arthur says, "I see why you like this place."

"Didn't say I liked it, just that it wasn't far," Dom replies, a complete lie that he further contradicts by tucking a five into the tip jar.

Arthur's missed Dom's soft spot. He orders the sweetest-sounding latte on the menu board, then says quietly to Dom, "Feels like another lifetime, that tiny place in the Upper Marais."

"It was another lifetime." Dom picks up his cup and walks towards one of the tables. Arthur has to admit he's not really wrong about that.

Arthur reads a newspaper and drinks his painfully sweet latte - he'd never been one for the standalone espressos that both Dom and Mal would finish in two sips, their sights turned already to whatever it was they were going to do next - then people-watches through the windows for a while as Dom does something on his phone. Probably email, from the typing and the expression on his face. After a while, Dom says, "Saito keeps asking me if I want a job."

Their trick of the mind seemed to work; six weeks later, Robert Fischer had announced he was splitting several divisions off into separate companies, and that he himself would head the most experimental - and thus most likely to fail - alternate energy research section. The roads that had been aimed so straight at the monopoly began to curve, and Fischer-Morrow lost some bright employees to Proclus Global. Saito seemed pleased, in general.

"Do you?" he asks Dom, setting his empty mug on the table. "Want a job?"

"Not yet." Dom picks up the newspaper Arthur abandoned, but only glances at the headlines. "He hasn't asked you?"

"Not recently."

Dom makes a contemplative noise, but otherwise doesn't comment. They leave their dishes in the collection tub and walk back to the house. It's hot enough now that Arthur feels sweat prickling his hairline, but dry enough that it evaporates quickly. "If you've got errands you need to run, don't let me stop you. I should probably go over my stuff for tomorrow," he says to Dom.

Dom's got a few things he could do, so he leaves Arthur and his laptop at the only table not covered with kid stuff, down in the furnished basement. By the time Arthur's done reviewing, Dom's not back, so he takes the advantage to wander through the house. There's Dom's room, and the kids', the guest room that Arthur slept in, and the one that's probably made up to be Claudine's. Dom's room is lined with cabinets and drawers, most of which are empty. Still-unpacked boxes are stacked in one corner. 

Arthur would feel worse about snooping, but he's been in Dom's mind, and Dom's bed, and he doesn't think Dom gives a shit about what moving boxes Arthur looks into. 

In the rest of the basement is a furniture set he recognizes from the old house, and a bar that's barely stocked aside from the ridiculous wine collection. He sees a few bottles of the red Dom and Mal served at their wedding reception, and feels such a hard pull of nostalgia that it's close to pain. There's even more of Mal's artwork on the walls down here; the long charcoal drawing of the Paris skyline that Arthur remembers watching her work on, pregnant with Phillipa and frowning at the several feet of paper tacked up on the wall of the apartment. 

He didn't realize Dom still had it, much less framed the entirety. Some parts are more complete than others. Arthur can still pinpoint where Mal was in the sketch when Phillipa was born, remembers clearly Dom calling breathless to say they were headed to the hospital.

He's still standing in front of it when he hears Dom's footsteps on the stairs. He stops partway down, hands on the jutting ceiling, looking at Arthur looking at the sketch. Arthur says, "This must have been a bitch to get framed."

"It was. Had to do it myself."

Arthur can picture that. 

"Lunch?" Dom asks, already turning, so Arthur follows him back upstairs.

  


  


  


Traffic slows to a crawl on his way back to Dom's place from Santa Monica, but thankfully, the Audi is almost too comfortable, and Arthur finds he doesn't actually mind waiting in the soft leather seat with the air conditioning rolling over him in waves. He ditched his jacket the second he walked outside, and rolled up his sleeves. 

It's near dark when he pulls the car into the garage - it opens automatically, must be some sort of sensor - and the house seems much quieter than he's gotten used to when he walks in. He finds Dom in the study, frowning down at the drafting table with a glass of wine in one hand. 

"What'd you do with the kids?" Arthur asks, and Dom looks up, the light catching the odd color of his eyes. 

"They go to Claudine's on Fridays. Quality time, she insists. They'll be back tomorrow night." He drops the pencil he was using back into the battered tin - Arthur's surprised Dom still has it, a long-ago purchase at an art store in London - and stretches. "Now that they don't see her every day, it's very exciting to have a slumber party at Grandma's."

"I bet." 

Dom drains his glass. "Drink?"

"Sure." Arthur tugs off his tie and undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. "But first, uh -" 

He reaches out and catches Dom by the forearm, pulls him in. Dom comes willingly enough, a soft look on his face and smelling like the particular wine he favors when he's drinking alone. He tastes like it as well, when Arthur brings their mouths together. The kiss is still familiar.

"We haven't done this in a long time," Dom says quietly when they break. His voice is almost hesitant, like he thinks saying it will make Arthur want to stop. Arthur doesn't move, keeps one hand on the back of Dom's neck and the other on his bicep, fingertips slipped under the edge of Dom's polo sleeve. 

"It's a little weird without her," he admits. He knows they're both thinking it. _The Mal in the room_ , a frequent enough occurrence in Dom's mind. "Is that a reason to stop, though?"

Dom leans in and opens his mouth against Arthur's neck, exhaling damply and making Arthur shudder. "No. Come upstairs."

It's slightly frantic after that, as though hurrying will cover their nervousness about the Mal-shaped empty space. Dom's hands slip on Arthur's shirt and wind up pulling, and a button goes pinging onto the floor. "What happened to that drink you wanted?" Dom asks, the words muffled against Arthur's skin.

"Later." He unfastens Dom's belt. Rucks his polo up out of his waistband and slides a hand up underneath so he can feel the muscles of Dom's stomach jump against his palm. "Do you remember -"

"You were nervous," Dom answers, before Arthur can finish the question.

"I wasn't nervous, I was worried we were going to fuck things up by all three of us sleeping together." 

Dom kisses him again, hard, one hand cupping Arthur's face. Arthur remembers when Mal would do the same thing, and for a moment the memory overlaps and he shivers strongly enough that Dom's hands tighten, just briefly. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just…"

"I get it," Dom murmurs. "We -" 

Arthur kisses him before he can say more, nudges him towards the huge bed. "You didn't forget how I like to be fucked, right?" he asks, opting for blunt honesty as he undoes Dom's fly. 

Dom's inhale is loud. "I didn't."

It's definitely not a lie. Dom's fingers are nimble with the lube, and Arthur nearly chokes on a moan when Dom presses in, hot and familiar. Dom squeezes the back of his neck. "Been a while?"

"You don't even - don't fuck around," Arthur groans, getting a hand around his cock as Dom sets a slow pace, the maddening kind that Arthur's been without since the last time Dom fucked him. But that time Mal had been underneath Arthur, purring and breathless, and they'd traded uncoordinated kisses while Arthur rubbed her clit with his thumb, getting her off with his hand. 

The memory swamps all his senses and he grabs at the fitted sheet hard enough to pop one corner off the mattress. The material makes a soft swishing noise. "Jesus, Dom, I can't -"

He feels a gentle hand trace down his spine and Dom slows so much he's barely moving. "It's fine," Arthur whispers, struggling for a moment to compose himself. "Please, don't stop."

Dom squeezes his hip and Arthur feels his breath shaky against the back of his neck. Then Dom starts to move again, smooth, and Arthur lets all his anger over the year that Dom barely spoke to him bleed out, lets it drift away in the currents from the lazily rotating overhead fan, in this huge house in this sun-baked California town, thousands of miles from where they'd been the last time Dom fucked him.

Arthur gets a hand around his cock, lets the weight of Dom's thrusts do the work, pushing his cock through the tight circle of his fingers. Dom rubs a cheek over the back of his neck, making him shiver, then Dom says, "Haven't done this - ah, fuck - since the last time."

He sets his teeth where he'd rubbed his cheek and Arthur hisses at the feel of it, heat rolling through him. He turns his head, nips at Dom's arm just south of his elbow, where the skin is smooth and warm, their combined sweat salty on his tongue. 

Dom grinds his hips, dirty, and Arthur's coming before his conscious mind even catches on, crying out against Dom's palm, pressing his tongue there, his senses full of Dom and only Dom. Then Dom grinds forward again and Arthur chokes at the overstimulation, wrapped up in the thought of how _good_ it feels to practically sob against Dom's hand.

He feels Dom's face rest between his shoulder blades for a long moment, breath humid against his skin. Then Dom says, "You want to get cleaned up? I'll run down for the wine," and Arthur reaches back to pat at whatever part of Dom his hand encounters, because that's about all he's good for at this moment.

He shudders when Dom pulls away, then again when Dom leans back in for a biting kiss before getting out of the bed and leaving the room. Arthur stretches, wincing at the wet spot. Then he gets up as well and looks down at the pulled-off corner of the sheet. Maybe Dom wants to change the whole set. Arthur doesn't know where the replacements are, probably still in a box.

There are washcloths stacked in the bathroom, so he cleans up quickly. And Dom at least has a hamper out.

"Did you want to change the sheets?" he asks as he steps into the bedroom, as Dom's back upstairs already, two glasses and a bottle in his hands. 

"I'm not sure which box the other set is in." Dom frowns, then hands Arthur a glass.

"Guess you better hope we don't spill," Arthur says as Dom pours.

  


  


  


There's an unfamiliar SUV parked on the furthest side of the driveway when Arthur gets back from Santa Monica on Wednesday, feeling itchy from the heat and grumpy because he's both tired and hungry, and also feels like his brain's been rummaged around in all day. He'd really like to lie on Dom's sofa for a while without talking to anyone, but if someone else is here, he's going to attempt to slip up to his room without being noticed.

"Arthur!" familiar voices call when he steps through the side door into the kitchen. Yusuf and Ariadne are seated at the kitchen table, and Dom's unpacking several large paper bags. Arthur breathes in; smells like Chinese food. Through the doorway, he can see Phillipa and James bent over the low table they use in the dining room, piled with coloring books, crayons, and colored pencils.

Arthur immediately feels less like he wants to hide upstairs. He hugs Yusuf and kisses Ariadne's cheek. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Road tripping across America," Ariadne says with a grin. "I have time to kill before I start working for Saito, and Yusuf's never been across the Atlantic."

"Only in other people's dreams," Yusuf says. "Except Ariadne is taking me to all these strange little tourist stops that I don't think anyone would ever choose to dream about."

Ariadne scoffs. "Excuse you, Wall Drug is definitely the place of dreams."

"Arthur," Dom says quietly at his elbow, holding out a full plate. 

It's crammed with all the things Arthur likes, and he takes it gratefully. "Thanks, I'm starving."

"You do look a bit ragged," Yusuf says, but he's smiling, and the words are soft. "Long day?"

"Yeah."

James darts in and crowds next to Arthur, hanging on to the edge of the table with both hands. "Can I have some egg roll?"

"You guys had dinner," Dom says mildly, "and Uncle Arthur is tired."

"It's okay." Arthur cuts his egg roll as neatly as possible, and passes half of it carefully to James, who enunciates his thanks and runs back to the dining room. 

"Phillipa only wants grilled cheese and cherry tomatoes lately, and James doesn't like any Chinese _besides_ egg rolls," Dom says to Ariadne and Yusuf by way of explanation, now handing out plates and putting the open cartons in the center of the table.

Arthur waves it off. "I don't mind. And you probably ordered half the menu anyway. Remember that tiny place we used to get delivery from, when you and Mal had that flat near Franconville? You always got enough food for eight people."

He leans forward slightly to take another bite of the lo mein and catches sight of Yusuf's expression. "What?"

"This is fascinating."

Ariadne elbows Yusuf and he winces. "I've never seen them not on the job!" he protests.

"And clearly their bickering is eternal," Ariadne says dryly. She spoons rice onto her plate. "I suppose it is a little bit fascinating. I mean, I've been in your dreams -" she gestures at Dom with her fork, "but this social situation is new."

Arthur feels his face heating up slightly. Dom must notice and take pity on him, because he says, "I guess no one ever mentioned how long Arthur and I have been friends."

"Too long," Arthur says, but with a smile.

  


  


  


"I'm going to open some wine," Dom says after they've finished off the takeout and the kids have gone through their bedtime routines, later than normal and yawning the whole time. "Unless everyone's tired?"

"I think Arthur needs it." Ariadne reaches over to tug lightly at Arthur's tie. "Do you ever wear anything that's not a suit? I can't imagine your dry-cleaning bill."

"Usually I stay in hotels with a service," Arthur replies, dry. "And actually, I think I'll go change before Dom gets us all drunk."

"I could do with a few glasses, so - cheers," Yusuf says before he sits down on one of the massive sofas in Dom's living room. Arthur goes upstairs, as quietly as he can since he's sure Phillipa isn't asleep yet. He hangs his suit in the closet and pulls on the pair of soft pajama pants he had to go buy once he'd been at Dom's more than three days. The t-shirt is Dom's, a college he hadn't even gone to; he dug it out of a drawer and handed it over while frowning, wondering why he even bothered to pack and move it.

"Someone else packed for you," Arthur replied. 

In the living room, Yusuf and Ariadne are starting to run down the places they've been on their road trip so far. "Yusuf vetoed the Rock and Roll Museum, so we went straight through Ohio," Ariadne is saying. "But then we did stop at the World's Largest Ball of Paint."

Yusuf hums. "The Midwest -" he shakes his head. "I don't quite understand America's obsession with these World's Largest items."

"Americans are very concerned with having the biggest things," Ariadne says dryly. Arthur sits down next to Dom, close enough that their arms brush, and Ariadne gives him a look before she asks, "How long have you two been sleeping together?"

"Too long," Dom replies, completely deadpan as he squeezes Arthur's knee, and Arthur and Yusuf laugh while Ariadne rolls her eyes. "How long have _you_ two been sleeping together?"

Ariadne and Yusuf exchange a look. "About three weeks," Yusuf says.

Arthur settles more comfortably against Dom. "Is it good?"

Ariadne and Yusuf exchange another, longer look, and Yusuf's face turns a brilliant red. Dom turns his head, mouth close to Arthur's ear, and murmurs, "I'll take that to mean it's good."

He's close enough that Arthur can't help but flash on last night, and his breath catches just slightly. Dom must know exactly what he's thinking, because he slips his hand up under the bottom of Arthur's shirt and leaves it there. Arthur laughs slightly, a little incredulous, because Dom has never been one for any sort of public display. That had always been Mal, never afraid to rest her hand in the crook of Arthur's elbow even as her other hand held Dom's. 

Arthur figures this hardly counts as public.

  


  


  


"Arthur, in jeans," Yusuf says with a grin, when Arthur nearly runs into him on his way downstairs. Yusuf is wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt branded very loudly with a logo for someplace called the Corn Palace. 

"Well, we are going to an amusement park. I'd look out of place in a suit."

"Shall we place bets on what Cobb will wear?"

Arthur has to laugh at that. "Probably what he's worn every day I've been here so far."

As Arthur predicts, Dom is in another polo shirt, standing in the living room telling James he needs to put his shoes on, please. "What's up, bud?" Arthur asks, crouching in front of James. "You excited for Disneyland?"

"Will Buzz be there?"

"Buzz Lightyear will definitely be at Disneyland," Arthur assures him. "Put your shoes on, okay?"

"Thanks," Dom whispers in his ear, and Arthur shrugs. Dom's hand slides over his back. "Where's everyone else?"

"Yusuf's dressed, at least, and I haven't seen Ariadne yet."

Phillipa is in the kitchen, eating a slice of toast with jelly, and carefully copying down a list of rides she wants to go on from a brochure. Her handwriting is wobbly. "Will we have time to see everything?" she asks Arthur as he uses Dom's ridiculous espresso machine.

"I hope so. And I think we can split up, if you want to do something James doesn't."

She nods, her expression serious. Arthur is reminded distinctly of Mal, although Phillipa definitely has Dom's hair and eyes. He finishes his coffee as Ariadne and Yusuf come down the stairs, talking animatedly about if they should go to New Mexico. 

"Everyone ready?" Dom says. "I think we'll all fit in the Explorer."

  


  


  


"America is insane, mate," Yusuf says later, eating a bright blue and green sno-cone as they sit on a bench outside of Mickey's house. 

Arthur nods. "Yes. Yes, it is."

The kids are drooping by now. Phillipa has crossed most everything off her list and agrees that what's left, she can see the next time they come. James falls asleep in Dom's arms as they walk along the opposite side of Fantasyland, heading back towards the park entrance. Ariadne and Yusuf veer towards another photo op, so Arthur shows Phillipa how to work his phone camera and lets her take their picture. 

"Did you have a good time?" he asks, as they round the statue of Walt holding hands with Mickey.

She nods happily, then tries to smother a yawn with her hand. "I really liked Sleeping Beauty's Castle."

"Yeah, that was pretty cool." It was also air-conditioned, which perked the kids up enough to make it most of the rest of the way. Dom bought Phillipa an insane princess dress at the gift shop, and she's still clutching the bag tightly, having refused to let Arthur carry it for her.

Ariadne jogs up beside them. "Okay, this was fun," she says, stealing Arthur's overpriced lemonade slush in its sweating plastic cup right out of his hand. "Definitely beats the World's Largest Bale of Hay."

  


  


  


"You've been hanging out without me," Eames says when he arrives in a loudly-printed shirt, with a worn leather duffle slung over his shoulder and obnoxious mirrored sunglasses on his head. "Ariadne gave away your secrets."

Arthur, on the sofa with his laptop, looks down at Yusuf on the floor where he's doing a puzzle with James. "Was this a secret?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Yusuf replies. He sorts edge pieces out from the pile and shows James where the corner ones will fit together. 

"Can I help with that?" Eames asks James, who looks at him for a moment, then nods and pats the carpet next to him. Eames leaves his bag in a corner, then slides out of his jacket and sits down. "Brilliant. What's your name?"

"James. What's yours?"

"Eames."

James repeats it, slowly. "That's a funny name," he declares.

"It's the one I go by. What's this here, hot air balloons?"

Arthur looks at the schematics on his screen and tries not to smile too hard. He's not entirely sure what Eames' first name is; he's never heard anyone use it in all the years they've known each other. 

"We went to Disneyland," James tells Eames, very seriously as he concentrates on his puzzle pieces.

Eames gives a dramatic gasp. "Without me?" 

"Did _you_ want to meet Buzz Lightyear?"

"Very much so." Eames winks at Arthur.

Arthur rolls his eyes, but smiles. He makes another few small changes to his schematic, then closes his laptop. The sofa is very comfortable, but he's spent a lot of time on it the last few weeks. "Anyone want to join me for a run?"

"Certainly not," Yusuf mutters, but Eames says he'll come, if Arthur will give him five more minutes of puzzle time. 

"So where'd you fly in from?" Arthur asks, as they jog slowly out of the cul-de-sac and onto the connecting road. Dom's street is only a dead end, and while it's supposed to run in the other direction as well, the development hasn't gotten that far. 

"Mexico City was my last."

That flight's just long enough that it's no wonder Eames wanted to stretch his legs. "You do all right there?"

"Few jobs. Nothing big, though."

"Makes sense to lie low," Arthur says, and Eames flashes him a grin and nods. 

They turn out onto the main road where there's a sidewalk but not much cover, and it's hot. After a few blocks, Eames says, "This isn't really where I expected to find Dom living."

"He was closer to LA before," Arthur replies, although as the words come out of his mouth he's not sure why he's telling Eames this. "Don't quote me on this, but I think he wanted the kids to live somewhere a little less busy."

Eames makes a face that could be a response, or could just be a reaction to the late afternoon heat rising up off the pavement. He gives up the pretense of jogging before Arthur does, dropping into a walk, and waving a lazy hand when Arthur looks back over his shoulder from a few feet ahead.

"Maybe going for a run wasn't the best way to stretch out my legs from the flight," Eames says, groaning as he wipes a hand over his forehead. 

"You volunteered." 

"Fuck off."

Arthur grins and walks beside him. After another few blocks, there's a little more shade, and the sky has started to go that brilliant sunset pink. Eames mops his face off with his shirt again and says, "This isn't where I expected to find you, either."

"It's a nice change after getting shot at," Arthur replies after a moment, and Eames snorts at that. 

Back at the house, they find Dom and Phillipa still in the pool. Eames dives in immediately, clothes and all. "Oh, terribly sorry," he says to Phillipa when he surfaces. "I should have introduced myself. I'm Eames."

"I'm Phillipa." She makes a face so distinctly Dom-like that Arthur nearly laughs, then says, "Didn't you bring a swimsuit?"

"I did not."

She looks at Dom. "You have a lot of friends, Daddy."

Arthur has to muffle a laugh at that. And at Dom's "They did just all kind of show up, yeah?" reply.

Eames doesn't even attempt to look offended. "If you didn't want me to visit, you should have told Ariadne not to give out your address."

Dom boosts Phillipa up onto the diving board, then swims slowly towards Eames with just his eyes visible above the surface of the water. Dom looks vaguely dangerous like that, and a feeling Arthur finds he enjoys curls in his stomach. He takes his shoes and socks off, then sits down on the edge of the pool and sticks his feet in the water. 

Dom stands up in the shallow end, looking normal again, and gives Eames a one-armed hug. "Could lend you a suit."

"Too late now," Arthur says. He kicks a small splash of water in Eames' direction.

"All right, two more dives, and then we've got to figure out dinner," Dom says to Phillipa. "Aren't you hungry?"

She shrugs. "Kind of."

She toes up to the end of the board, then dives off. Her form is shaky, but she's got the idea. Arthur applauds when she surfaces. Dom boosts her up again, then says, "You should ask Uncle Arthur for tips, he used to be an excellent swimmer."

"Used to?" Eames asks. "Do tell."

Arthur kicks at the water again. "Not much call for it in our current line of work. It feels like forever ago that I was in the Army."

It does feel like it's been a lifetime. Thanks to the dream-sharing, they've all lived a lot more than their ages would suggest. Sometimes he sees flashes of it in Dom's face, echoes of lines he knows Dom has seen in his own features. He and Mal had lived an entire life, just the two of them. Arthur watches Phillipa dive again and steadfastly does not think about what might have happened had the kids not existed.

  


  


  


"We weren't _really_ trying to exclude you," Arthur says later, topping up Eames' glass with the last of the chardonnay.

Eames only scoffs. "I'd've been put out to find you lot went on some tropical vacation without inviting me, but lazing around Dom's living room? Please. This house is insane, by the way."

Dom comes back from walking Phillipa upstairs again - she'd wandered down pretending to want a glass of water, but was clearly interested in finding out what all the adults were up to. Which wasn't anything more than they'd been up to the last few nights: drinking their way through Dom's wine collection, picking movies to watch from the on-demand service, then dozing off before the end. 

"We did go to Disneyland without you," Dom tells Eames.

"James told me all about it." Eames shrugs. "Plus I did a whole job based on Disneyland once."

"Do tell," Yusuf says, and Eames stretches out with his head on Arthur's thigh as he launches into the tale. 

Arthur looks down after a while and realizes his own glass is empty. "Move, Eames," he mutters, and pushes at Eames until he's been tipped over into Dom's lap instead. 

"Such manhandling," Eames drawls, as though he's put out about it. 

"You forget I have manhandled all of you while you were sleeping," Arthur says, smugly.

Eames rolls his eyes and says that doesn't count at all, "because you're always such a gentleman."

It's Arthur's turn to look heavenward for a moment before he kisses first Dom, then Eames. Then he gives Ariadne a considering look and she smiles, and waves him over. He takes the few steps over to where she's sitting and kisses her softly, before looking at Yusuf. "Yeah?"

Yusuf pulls him in without a word, mouth pressing gently to Arthur's.

Arthur then retrieves the Marsanne from where it's been chilling in the massive refrigerator and opens the bottle. 

Everyone's glasses refilled, Arthur sits down on the floor and leans against Yusuf's legs. Dom is making his thinking face, one hand in Eames' hair. He says, "I'm glad I bought so much furniture for this room."

"It does seem a bit crowded for your tastes," Eames murmurs, but Arthur can see his face, and he looks content to be stretched out on the long side of Dom's giant kid-friendly sectional, half in Dom's lap. 

"I should call Saito," Dom says, "and see if he can take a vacation. Might as well get the whole team back together, right? Although I definitely don't have enough guest rooms for this."

Arthur's known Dom long enough that he can read in Dom's expression what he's thinking: the house he would build in dreamspace, with rooms for all of them. But it's fleeting. "Not like we haven't been sharing," he points out. "And we could always make Eames sleep in the basement."

"Hey," Eames protests, but it's perfunctory, and he doesn't bother even attempting to glare at Arthur.

"You might as well call him right now, it's four o'clock in Japan," Ariadne says. 

Dom calls Saito's personal cell, and he answers right away. "We're having sort of a spontaneous get-together, would you be free to take a few days of vacation?"

Whatever Saito says, Arthur can't hear. He feels a hand run over his hair and tips his head back to look up at Yusuf. "How long have you been staying here now?" Yusuf asks.

Arthur quick does the math in his head. "Three weeks, around there. The job I'm on ends after tomorrow, so I will be officially unemployed again."

Yusuf smirks at that; Saito had paid them all enough to be quite comfortable for a while, and a bonus when Fischer made his announcement. Arthur would rather work, he's good at it and likes keeping busy, but he can afford to be choosier about what jobs he accepts, and also afford to hang out at Dom's house for an extended period without worrying about money. 

Yusuf's hand slides down from Arthur's hair to the back of his neck, thumb moving in absent circles. "You feel more tense than I wager you should," he murmurs, barely loud enough for anyone besides Arthur to hear, and presses his thumb in a little harder to a spot behind Arthur's ear. 

Arthur groans at that, feeling his eyelids drop of their own volition, and then feels Ariadne's arm leaning against his shoulder as she says, "He's working the massage magic now, you can't escape."

"Don't think I'd even try," Arthur mumbles, and Yusuf gives a satisfied "hah" before stroking his thumb down Arthur's neck. He hears Dom end his call with Saito and say, "He'll fly in Thursday night, so really Friday morning."

"The kids going to Claudine's again?" Ariadne asks. She's close enough that Arthur can feel the warmth of her body and the brush of her hair against his cheek. She must have also been in the pool; there's the faint scent of chlorine. 

Dom answers in the affirmative. Yusuf adds his right hand to his left and Arthur sighs as Yusuf applies more pressure, pushing both thumbs on either side of Arthur's spine right above his shoulder blades. "What are you so tense for?" Yusuf asks, low in Arthur's ear. "Surely you've had enough wine by now."

"Got shot about six times today," Arthur replies, somewhat petulant, but he is already starting to feel like he could melt down onto the carpet. "I'm turning down the next job that wants me to go along. I think they like shooting the civilian."

Everyone laughs at that. Arthur readjusts his grip on the wineglass, not wanting to turn it over accidentally now that the boneless feeling is intensifying. "Just let me," Ariadne murmurs, and takes it away from him.

"But my wine…"

Ariadne slides down from the sofa and into his lap. Arthur gets a single moment of surprise before she kisses him. 

"Well, then," Eames says distantly. Ariadne laughs into Arthur's mouth and he slides his arms around her. His mind immediately tries to compare her to Mal, but it's so brief that it's just a hazy whisper, and between the weight of her on his lap and Yusuf's hands still moving slowly over his back, Arthur's struggling to form a coherent thought. 

Yusuf's beard brushes Arthur's ear as he says, "Perhaps the floor is getting uncomfortable?"

Arthur feels too loose - and too buzzed, if he's being honest - to get up off the floor under his own power. Yusuf just grins and drags him up, with Ariadne helping, and Arthur ends up halfway stretched out with Yusuf behind him, arms around Arthur's waist, and Ariadne between his knees, leaning in to kiss him again.

There's a whistle from the other sofa. Arthur looks over to see Eames still in Dom's lap, now with his collar undone several more buttons, and Dom's hand slipping inside. Then Yusuf slides both his hands up underneath Arthur's polo, and Arthur loses his train of thought once again.

  


  


  


Friday morning is still dark when Arthur wakes up to the feel of Dom trying to slip inconspicuously out of the bed. "Why'd Saito's plane have to come in so early?" he mumbles, half to Dom and half into the pillow. On his other side, Eames doesn't even stir.

Dom squeezes the back of his neck, a thing that makes Arthur sigh. "It might actually still count as late," Dom whispers. "You can get the kids up for camp if I'm not back by eight, right?"

"Of course." Arthur flaps a hand at him, too sleepy to raise it more than a few inches off the mattress. Dom leans in for a tired kiss, then Arthur hears the soft sounds of him getting dressed, the light click of the bathroom door. Arthur resettles more comfortably against Eames and falls asleep again to the sound of the tap running.

  


  


  


Eames sleeps like the dead, and continues snoring at the ceiling when Arthur drags himself out of the bed at seven forty-five, yawning hard enough that his jaw pops and he actually has to stop on his slow trip downstairs to cover his mouth. He fumbles a cup out of the strainer and under the espresso machine, and hopes the button he pushes is the correct one. 

By the time the coffee's brewed, he's shook off the worst of the lingering exhaustion, and is wondering what to feed the kids for breakfast when he hears the garage. 

"Good, you're back," he says when Dom comes through the door, followed by a tired-looking Saito.

"You're up, you can get the kids," Dom answers before going into the living room and dropping onto the sofa, pulling the throw over his face. 

Arthur hugs Saito hello. "How was the flight, you get any sleep?"

"A few hours." Saito takes in Arthur's pajamas and coffee cup, the pile of various projects from James and Phillipa's camp that's sitting on the counter, the mess of art supplies spread out over a stretch of newspaper on a different part of the counter, and Yusuf's jacket thrown over one of the high-backed chairs. Then he smiles and says, "You've been here a while."

"Dom's got enough room. You want coffee or something before I go wake up the kids?"

"I can figure it out," Saito says firmly.

Arthur leaves him to it, and goes upstairs to prod James and Phillipa out of their beds. Phillipa goes into the bathroom to brush her teeth without complaint, but James stays lying on his back in the bed, hugging his plush Buzz Lightyear by the neck. "Uncle Arthur?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Are you going to stay with us a long time?"

Arthur crouches next to the bed. "You know, I'm not sure myself. But I like it here with you guys. Do you want me to stay longer?"

James nods furiously and Arthur feels warmth bloom in his chest. "That's really nice, Jamie," he says quietly. "That makes me happy."

James launches himself at Arthur, and Arthur gives him a tight hug before setting him on his feet. "You still have to brush your teeth, though."

Phillipa comes back and announces that she's used all the toothpaste, which means Arthur has two kids trying to guess where Dom might keep an extra tube, since he doesn't really want to wake Dom up. They find three boxes of Crest in a drawer in the vanity, and James finally brushes his teeth. Arthur gets Phillipa's hair into a respectable ponytail, then leaves them to get dressed while he gets dressed.

Saito introduces himself very solemnly, producing two sets of stickers and coloring books that Phillipa especially seems interested in. Arthur is always surprised by how unsurprised they are at yet another adult showing up. Dom's still passed out on the sofa and doesn't stir even though Arthur makes enough noise getting the kids some breakfast. 

"Saito, you want some toast?" he asks, dropping slices of bread in all the available toaster slots. "There's peanut butter and some kind of jam that Eames bought when he decided to go grocery shopping the other day."

"It's fancy strawberry," Phillipa adds. 

Saito takes the remaining empty barstool. "What makes it fancy?"

"There's honey in it," Eames says, wandering in still in his pajamas. His bedhead is truly terrible. "And maybe another kind of fruit, I don't remember. Sounded interesting, so I got it."

Arthur retrieves the jar from the refrigerator. "Strawberry preserves with honey, lemon, and thyme," he reads from the label. He tips the jar towards Phillipa. "Sounds like you're the expert, is it good?"

"Yup."

Arthur gets the kids their toast and juice, leaving the second round of bread for Saito and Eames to deal with. He steals one of Eames' halves as the kids put their shoes on and put their lunches into backpacks. "You guys walking with us?"

Eames has some morning show he wants to watch that he can only see in the States, but Saito volunteers to accompany them. As they walk down the tree-shaded side of the street, Arthur has a flash of his first morning here, walking the kids to school with Dom, asking Dom the same questions that Saito's posing now.

  


  


  


"Is this your car?" Saito asks, as Arthur backs the Audi out into the cul-de-sac. 

"No, it's Dom's." He shifts into drive, then adds, "Although I don't think he's driven it at all since I got here."

From the backseat, Ariadne says, "So it might as well be your car."

Arthur smooths his palm over the steering wheel. "It is very nice. I used to have junker of a Fiat, in Europe. Last time I even owned a car."

Saito's expression is distinctly not impressed. Arthur smiles at him. 

It's still early enough that the Von's isn't crowded with post-work shoppers. Arthur unfolds Eames' hasty list and says to Saito, "When was the last time you were in a grocery store?"

"In _America_?" He looks at Arthur, considering. "I accept your challenge."

"I can't believe we're letting Eames cook," Ariadne says as Arthur carefully creases and then rips the list into three sections. 

"He's actually not terrible in the kitchen. We set up for a job once in a flat that had a good stove; he and Dom got into a fight about - something cooking-related. I think it was eggs. It was really fucking dumb, and Eames basically peaced out by passing out."

Ariadne looks delighted. "I'd ask how you get into a fight about making eggs, but..."

"But it's Eames," Arthur finishes. He hands out the list. "Registers in fifteen?"

Saito looks smug when they convene by the registers, his basket neatly organized. "I won."

Arthur doesn't argue with that, or argue when Saito pays for the groceries. Back at the house, they unpack everything as Eames watches, then he shoos Arthur and Ariadne out of the kitchen. "You look like a man who can slice all this veg into rounds of the same size," he tells Saito, pointing at the cutting board.

"Have fun," Ariadne tells Saito with a grin.

Arthur sits at one of the barstools and watches Eames whip up two separate sauces and butters a casserole dish while Saito slices a mountain of produce. 

"Perfect," Eames tells Saito when he's finished, and kisses him squarely on the mouth. Saito doesn't seem surprised, and he merely tilts his chin into it. Arthur smiles to himself.

  


  


  


Saito walks directly into Dom's space that night and kisses him, one hand around the back of Dom's neck. Arthur can't help but whistle, because it is indeed a sight to behold, especially the way Dom melts into it after a moment, clutching hard at Saito's arms.

"This _is_ what you all have been doing?" Saito asks when he frees Dom's mouth. 

Ariadne sucks in a breath that Arthur can hear from partway across the room before Dom answers. "It is."

"Excellent. I've been waiting." Saito nips underneath Dom's jaw. 

"You could've…" Dom breathes, shuddering, "could've said something."

"And kissed you in a dream?" 

Arthur puts his hand on Saito's thigh. "We haven't shared dreamspace since the job."

"Amazing," Saito whispers, and kisses Dom again. 

Arthur is definitely drunk, and definitely enjoying the view as Saito yanks Dom's polo free of his khakis. He reaches to the other side and grabs Eames by the front of his shirt. "Want to make out?" he asks.

"Do I ever," Eames drawls. Arthur climbs into his lap.

When he surfaces next, Yusuf has his face between Ariadne's bare thighs, and she's trying to muffle her cries into her palm. Saito has his hand in Dom's slacks, moving in a very familiar motion. "How about that," Arthur sighs into Eames' mouth, biting gently at his lower lip. 

Eames squeezes his waist. "Indeed. Want me to suck you off?"

Arthur's been hard practically since Saito stepped between Dom's knees. He rolls his hips against Eames', finds him in a similar state. "Please."

Hazily, he thinks it's a good thing the kids are at Claudine's tonight, as Eames undoes his belt and pulls all of Arthur's clothes down to his knees in one smooth tug. "Oh, you're no fucking novice," he groans as Eames swallows around his cock. 

"Eames, a novice," Dom laughs, but his words turn into a groan on the last syllable at whatever it is Saito does to him. 

Arthur closes his eyes, threading his fingers through Eames' hair.

  


  


  


Los Angeles never really sleeps, but it's late enough when Arthur drops Eames and Saito off at the airport that traffic on 405 is smooth, and Arthur even has his pick of lanes for once. He could get used to driving Dom's Audi all the time, he thinks. He's been so many places over the last decade that owning a car seemed like a waste. Even owning more than he could fit in a single set of luggage had seemed like a waste for so long. 

By the time he's through Palmdale, there are stretches where he's the only car on the road. He's got the radio on, but low, and it's easy to let his mind wander, tracing back the last few weeks. It's not a stretch to admit he's enjoyed it. The thought of leaving makes his breath stick a little in his throat. Dom hasn't mentioned anything, hasn't spoken in such a way that doesn't include Arthur in whatever future plans he's talking about. It doesn't feel to Arthur like Dom's waiting for him to leave. And the kids haven't said anything either; accepting Arthur in the house and not asking why he's sometimes the one to get them up and walk them to camp instead of Dom.

It's the longest he's ever stayed with Dom without leaving for a job, or Dom or Mal needing to leave for a job. It's the most consecutive nights he's ever slept in someone else's bed. The three of them had vacationed once in Italy, a week spent in a rented villa with Mal cooking a million dishes with the local wine when they weren't eating at the little place down the road, Arthur getting pulled down into the huge bed with the two of them every night. He wondered what they were trying to work out between them, but neither said a word, and Arthur hadn't asked. 

The house is quiet when he gets in. There's luggage next to the front door - Ariadne's, which means she and Yusuf are also leaving soon. She and Saito talked briefly about which office she'd be working out of, if she even wanted to work out of an office. Arthur figures that Saito would probably pay any of them to do whatever they pleased, as long as Fischer kept on the same path.

Dom's awake, reading by the light of the small lamp next to the bed. The covers are turned down on Arthur's side, and something seizes hard in his chest when he sees that. "Everyone get into the airport okay?" Dom asks, the words quiet as he sticks a finger in his book to look up at Arthur.

"Yeah." Arthur finds his pajamas folded in the clean laundry basket; Dom must have done some wash. Arthur never realized how much clothes two kids could go through. 

"Ariadne figures she and Yusuf will head out sometime tomorrow."

"I saw her luggage." 

He finishes getting ready for bed while Dom reads, even though Dom doesn't seem to be turning any pages and looks more like he's asleep sitting up. "You didn't have to wait up for me," Arthur says, sliding under the sheet and knocking his foot against Dom's. 

Dom gives up the pretense of reading and drops the book on the nightstand. "I never told you I was sorry."

Arthur blinks, confused into stillness. "For… for what?"

"Everything?" Dom halfway laughs at that, but there's no humor behind it, only sadness. Arthur knows then that he's talking about that first year after Mal died, when Dom was so shut down that he shrugged off Arthur's single attempt to hug him the first time they saw each other after, when things were so brittle between them that they didn't speak unless it was for a job. 

"I understood that you were grieving," Arthur says, choosing the words before he says them. Not just Mal, but the kids, and his freedom. "I figured you needed space, without me there as a reminder."

Telling himself that had worked for a long time. He figured that if he couldn't look at Dom without thinking about Mal, then the reverse must have been true, and must have felt even worse. 

Dom says, "I thought... it was easier to forget that you cared about her, too."

"It was easier. For a while." Arthur wiggles in closer and hooks his arm through Dom's, then rubs his thumb over the jut of bone in Dom's wrist. "But we're past that part."

"Still owed you an apology," Dom says firmly, kissing Arthur's temple, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.

"Your apology is accepted."

Dom lifts their joined arms and kisses Arthur's hand. "There's one other thing."

"What's that?"

"I'd like you to stay. Here, with us." The words are as soft as the pleased feeling starting to expand in Arthur's chest. "If that's something you'd be - if you'd want that. It's a big house, we have plenty of room, and the kids love -"

"Yes," Arthur says, cutting him off. He squeezes Dom's fingers, and none too gently. 

"Yeah?"

Arthur takes a second to organize his thoughts. "Okay, first off, the kids are great, and smart and funny, and sometimes really annoying. I love them, but you know there wasn't a time when I didn't love them, from the second they were born."

"I remember you running into the hospital," Dom says, with a soft chuckle, and a kiss to Arthur's jaw. 

Arthur puts a hand on his chest, stilling him. "Don't shut me out again."

Dom shakes his head. 

"You do that to me again and we're through - everything, even work." It feels important that he say it out loud, and say it specifically. "It happens again and I'm gone. For good."

"That's fair," Dom says calmly. "We're not students running around Paris anymore, drunk on the street."

"Just drunk in the living room."

Dom laughs at that, then turns his mouth against Arthur's cheek, just resting. "Thank you," he murmurs after a while, "for not telling me to fuck off years ago."

Arthur turns that around in his head for a moment. "Figured I owed it to Mal not to."

Dom makes a soft sound, sad, and his breath hitches. "Thanks for loving us."

Arthur knows what he means by that. _Thanks for loving me, and loving Mal. Thanks for loving our kids._ His own chest feels tight. "Hey. Stop, unless you want me to start crying on you."

Dom kisses him, and Arthur kisses back, swiping his thumb over the damp skin of Dom's cheek. He feels like he should say something else, but he doesn't know what's left to say. Between the waking world and their dreams, they might have spoken all the words two people could possibly speak.

Arthur kisses Dom harder, and thinks that there are plenty of things he could say again.


End file.
